The Vixen Files Read online

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  THE VIXEN FILES

  by

  L. SHANNON

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.amberquill.com

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  The Vixen Files

  An Amber Quill Press Book

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.AmberQuill.com

  http://www.AmberHeat.com

  http://www.AmberAllure.com

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  Copyright © 2009 by L. Shannon

  ISBN 978-1-60272-556-0

  Cover Art © 2009 Trace Edward Zaber

  Layout and Formatting

  Provided by: Elemental Alchemy

  Published in the United States of America

  Also by L. Shannon

  Zeven Ways To Kill Your Lover

  Dedication

  For my man. Glad I caught you.

  And as always, this story is dedicated to my family and friends.

  Thank you for everything.

  MISSION LOG

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  Agent: Mae Vixandra

  Date: August 2009

  Initial Report:

  The time is 0300 hours and I've just experienced an unsettling dream, which may or may not be relevant to the Hunt Club. Instinct says this premonition could influence the political arena and therefore be relevant to our organization. However, the topic of the dream was very personal. I will not record all details. (Because it's none of your damn business.)

  I will report that the primary player in the dream is a man our agency has long hunted. Only now do I begin to understand the importance of his capture. My goal for the coming mission will be to gain his loyalty by any means necessary.

  James Smith, an obvious alias, is known for his antics across the globe. He does what he wishes and seems to have no loyalty past how it affects his finances. Unfortunately his loyalty does not come cheap. Buying his services for more than a short time would undoubtedly bankrupt any country.

  The premonition implied that the only successful tactic would be sexual favors. This option is viable especially considering other personal factors. Agency regulations (as usual) state that this option is not preferred. Alternatives will have to be considered if approval from the higher-ups is required.

  Continued Report:

  We have acquired a known location for the target (James Smith). Sources have sighted him in London. Research regarding James was inconclusive. He may or may not be currently associated with any native or foreign agencies. He has been active on the world scene for between ten and forty years or perhaps more. He was thought to be between thirty and sixty years old and probably brunette, though he had been seen as a blond and redhead.

  Additional detail:

  New information has surfaced. James has been marked for elimination by enemy agents. Because of his independence he has become a threat to his former employers. If he is aware of the pending action he will almost certainly drop off the grid. The timeframe for flipping James has narrowed drastically. It's now, or he will be lost.

  Chapter 1

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  Mission: Retrieve target at all costs

  "Don't argue with me, Vicki." I stared at my eldest daughter. She was more than ready to take command of the agency. The only problem was she'd grown far too comfortable following my lead.

  "Please, Mother, you can't go, not now."

  "Vicki, this is not a debate. I will be taking this mission and you will stay here and take charge of the Hunt Club." Now was as good a time as any to cut the apron strings. I needed this mission as well as a break from leading. It was all I could due to focus on Vicki. The mission and all its challenge and opportunity was a thrill not to be put on the backburner even for the love of my girls. What I wanted was to get going, get caught, and find out if my quarry might end up being my perfect mate. Timing mattered and I didn't have time to stand here and argue with Vicki.

  She backed down under my glare. "Okay, okay. I'm in charge while you're gone. I get it, but how do you want me to handle the new guy? If you have to go now, can you at least set the tone, since he's due to arrive any moment?" She passed me a partially crumpled memo with the bold heading, "New Supervisor to Arrive Today."

  "William Hardy?" The name tickled my memory, but I couldn't place from where. The memo indicated he was being transferred from regular CIA to our division to act as Administrative overseer. In any of the Tiwaz divisions that meant a human sent to keep an eye on the animals. "Know anything besides these details?"

  Vicki shook her head. "We should know soon. His arrival is set for 0900 which is in...two minutes."

  "Not everyone is as precise as you, dear." But even as I spoke the elevator doors opened to reveal a completely unremarkable man, who had to be our new William Hardy. "I spoke too soon. Looks like he arrived one minute early."

  "Will you be greeting him before you leave, or will that be up to me, too?" Her voice was carefully bland, but the fear lingered just under the tone.

  "Let's make him welcome." I might be ready to take a back seat in the role as leader, but I wasn't ready to dump everything on Vicki at once. Together we walked across our chaotic main room to meet the man who might have been sent to take over.

  "Mr. Hardy, I presume?"

  He nodded absently. His frown deepened while looking around the room. "I was told this is a specialty division of the agency called the Hunt Club, but I'm afraid to ask what you hunt and why the uniforms would be so similar to hookers." His gaze rested on my youngest daughter, Fiona, who was currently dressed in a leather miniskirt, tube top, and six-inch stiletto heels.

  Vicki bristled protectively. "I'll have to check your clearances before explaining her current assignment."

  I put on my most diplomatic look. "Mr. Hardy, I assure you that the Hunt Club is every bit as patriotic as the next division. Our methods may be less than by the book, but the importance of our missions often supersedes the usual regulations."

  "Seems to me that the book never made it into this room. Perhaps that is why they sent me." He finally turned his attention back to me. "You must be Agent Vixandra. My father spoke well of--" His words stumbled. "But he must have been mistaken."

  I'd seen his reaction many times. He couldn't mesh his father's stories with my youthful looks. But his comment did help me remember where I'd heard the name Hardy before. "Ah, yes, John Hardy from back in '73, wasn't it? I was sorry to hear he was injured in that bombing. He was a very loyal man."

  "Loyal men do seem to end up that way." Hardy shifted his weight slightly.

  "Or worse." Far too many gave limbs and lives to protect what they loved, but it was the way of the world, a way I still believed in. My guess was the younger Hardy had been forced into this desk job by some injury, too. By his solid frame and relative youth, he probably had spent a good deal of his career in the field. He might just prove useful to the agency once he got past his initial response. Vicki could help him adjust while I was gone. "My apologies, Mr. Hardy, but I have to run. I leave you in Victoria's capable hands."

  Even as I turned I felt Vicki close on my heels. "So that's William Hardy. Why do you think they sent him?"

  "I don't know." And to be honest I didn't care, at least not too much. He seemed decent enou
gh, and I was, as of this second, on assignment. William Hardy and whatever he meant for the Hunt Club didn't even register on the importance radar. "He's your problem now."

  "Let me take this assignment, and you can sort this new fellow out."

  I growled low, glaring at her when I mostly wanted to laugh at her tactical maneuver. Normally I was happy to let my girls do all the legwork. "Vicki, you can manage Mr. Hardy and only I can handle this particular assignment. Just introduce him to everyone, get the man settled in, and see how it goes." I dropped the frown and gave her my best don't-mess-with-me expression and pointedly continued toward the elevator. "Speaking of the assignment, no more delays. I need to be leaving. Too much depends upon the timing of this mission. And don't think you can call me for every little problem. There is a very good chance I will be out of contact for several days. Perhaps several weeks."

  "What if you need back up?"

  "I'll find a way to contact you then, but not until then."

  Vicky nodded, finally giving in to logic. "I'll hold down the base. You just take care of what you have to." Her arms came around me for a short hug. "Be careful, you know we love you."

  "Back at you, dear." The separation would not be easy, but I really was ready to go. I was ready for this mission. I was ready for the man I had to catch. Not only would I catch him, but better yet, I would let him catch me. My thoughts jumped ahead to the plan, which was exquisite. Perfect and flawless, which of course meant it was bound to be completely fouled up. As I left the Hunt Club's headquarters, I knew one thing for certain. Fate had offered me another chance and I was going to do everything I could to take advantage of the opportunity.

  Everything was packed and all the arrangements were made. Within an hour, I was comfortably settled and in-flight toward jolly old England. That was where my target had been last seen. Every bit of information regarding the target was memorized and destroyed. Nothing with me would lead enemies back to my daughters. I'd been doing this for too long to make simple mistakes. No, I was bound to make really big complicated ones. The biggest of which would be underestimating my prey. With that in mind, I mentally reviewed the intelligence I'd been able to gather on my mystery man.

  The little I knew about him left the man far short of my idea of heroic. But perhaps he might be ready for some personal growth. What James Smith needed was the kind of loyalty money could not buy. Especially since Mr. Smith's last group of employers just happened to be the enemies to the United States government. Secrets he held could possibly end the War on Terror. But first, he had to be bought, and it just so happened that I would be the one offering him a deal. Hopefully the sort of deal he couldn't refuse.

  None of the facts took into account my premonition, which was far more personal as well as dangerous. If James Smith, or whoever he really was, turned out to be my mate, he might be my last chance at love. As far as anyone knew he was human. Not that his being human bothered me.

  My first mate, Fredrick, father to my six daughters, had been human. It's not uncommon for Valàfrn werewolves to mate humans. The kind of magic that allows us to change into wolves can be shared. Sharing our magic offers our mates the chance to live long lives with us rather than dying of old age after a single century. Fredrick never would have died of old age, but that hadn't stopped him from being killed protecting his country during the American Revolution.

  The jet skimmed through the clouds and I tried to get some rest. There was a good chance that once I'd caught my man, or rather been caught by him, rest would not be high on the agenda.

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  I was tied to a bed.

  The man standing over me was draped in shadows. They cradled him protectively while light poured over my naked body.

  "Let me up." Despite the demand I forced into my tone, I didn't want free from the restraints. I wanted him to join me. My body pulsed with pleasure and begged for satisfaction. Fortunately, he didn't seem inclined to release me or abandon his role. For that I was grateful. If he left me alone I'd surely die of frustration.

  Something snapped, a crop in his hand. He'd used that on me before and would, if I was lucky, use it again. The sound was a reminder. He'd ordered me to not talk unless answering a question.

  I had opted for not talking at all, but the truth was my endurance could only take so much torment. "Please..."

  The crop darted out and came down on the inside of my thigh with a stinging snap. Again it landed, this time against my opposite thigh. Both strikes within inches of my overheated sex.

  Damn. My captor was a tease.

  "You have been warned." The low rumble of his voice vibrated through me. His words could have been harsh, but any threat was washed away when he moved into the light, running his fingertips over the red blush left from his crop. Those same fingers danced lightly upward, brushing over my sex. Always he teased and tempted. But he would not offer me release. Maybe this time would be different. Surely his own needs were great by now.

  His body was partially revealed and, from what I could see, he was more than ready to take this game up a level. His erection rose proudly. Maybe if we trusted each other more I could have tasted him, but that would have to wait for the next time we played. For this time I was the one to receive all the attention and none of the satisfaction, at least so far.

  But foxes are known for being sly. I could fake it as well as the next woman. It just so happened that I was faking disinterest, hiding how my body burned for him.

  As his fingers slid through my folds and circled my clit, I fought back the need to arch into his touch. It was damn good, and this time I would come with or without his permission. I glared at him as if his game was unwanted.

  His delectable lips curved with amusement. The confident bastard had never lost. It was written there in his features.

  But then his hand was toying with my slick, swollen pussy, and there would be no arguing just how turned on that part of my body was. His fingers dipped inside, circling, coaxing a moan from me.

  "Perhaps I will let you come this time."

  But he wouldn't. He would keep tormenting me until my mind shattered, or until I lost patience and broke the ropes and ripped his throat out. There was that possibility, too, and it was beginning to look pretty good.

  A second finger joined his first, plunging into me with a shallow mimic of sex. Each advance left me aching and desperate. How long had I been tied here? Every second felt like eternity. This much time spent on foreplay must be some kind of record.

  When his fingers twisted and began feathering the inside of my body, I cracked, moaning and jerking against the sensation. "Endurance is a good thing. How much longer can you keep it up without some release of your own?"

  He chuckled and pulled back from me. "What makes you think I haven't been jacking off in the dark?" Then he leaned over me, his hands on my hips and face between my thighs.

  Between his mouth hitting my flesh and the image of him watching me while pleasuring himself... I fell screaming over the edge, orgasming even while his tongue continued to lave over my sex.

  Before I could regain any semblance of sanity, he redoubled his efforts, bringing me a second and a third release with his mouth and hands.

  I wanted him to find just as much pleasure. I wanted him inside me.

  "Fuck me, James. Please fuck me."

  He bit down on my clit, sucking and worrying it until I came again. Then softly, almost lower than I could hear, "Tell me your name."

  I'd told him my cover name, but somehow he'd known it was a lie. Then I had given in and revealed my first name, but even that wasn't enough. No, he wanted it all. Now I wanted to tell him the truth. I couldn't tell him everything, but how could I refuse to tell him at least my name?

  "My name is Maelissian Vixandra. Now fuck me."

  "Now I will fuck you, Maelissian Vixandra." He turned and moved between my thighs. At first I thought he might unbind me, but he didn't. In one long stroke he drove into my body.

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  "Ma'am?" The stewardess shook my shoulder. "Are you all right, ma'am? You were moaning."

  I'll just bet I was. "I'm fine. Thank you."

  I was far from fine. I was hot and needy and couldn't get caught soon enough. The dream wasn't any average dream... No, it was a premonition and had been repeating every time I closed my eyes. Through the vision I knew I was walking into a trap. I couldn't be sure what would come before or after, but the interrogation was going to be a doozie.

  First I had to get to him. The last sighting of James had been in London less than a week ago. So that was where I would start the search. It was intuition not psychic ability that told me he was still there, still waiting for me. All I had to do was find him.

  In a city the size of London, finding one man could prove an impossible task, but I had a secret weapon. One of James's contacts had a letter written by James. It carried his scent and I took it from him. Although I might not be the best tracker, my enhanced senses would allow me to find the target, hopefully within one day.

  If James was my mate, I had all the time in the world to convince him to build a relationship, but I still had a schedule to maintain. Keeping him alive and working for the right team was too important to wait.

  I continued to mull over the implications of the mission for the remaining hour of the flight. There would be no sleep for me. I couldn't risk another dream. That kind of sweet torment would come soon enough. By the time I disembarked and claimed my waiting limo, I was more than ready to start the hunt.